Lesia's Dream Read Free Page B

cheeks spread to her forehead, her ears, the back of her neck. She didn’t look at the paper. There was no point. Instead she stared defiantly at Michal Stryk.”I don’t read.”
    He hooted.”You see, Father? She is useless. Stupid. Brainless. It’s shameful giving a worthless servant like this your money. Giving her
my
inheritance!”
    Useless. Stupid. Brainless.
She stared at a narrow crack between the floorboards. She wanted to shrink until she could hide there. Never in her entire life had she felt so humiliated.
    Master Stryk glared at his son. “When I am dead and gone, you will make the decisions. While I am alive, I make them. I am still in charge here, Michal. I pay the bills and I issue the pay. Including, it seems to me, yours.”
    â€œBut she is a peasant,” Michal argued hotly. “You cannot trust her to pay you back. We will never see that money again!”
    Lesia opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. How dare he even suggest such a thing? She was trustworthy!
    The old man’s eyebrows stretched into one long frown. “I will take my chances.”
    â€œYou are foolish, Father. Giving away our money. Allowing the peasants to emigrate.” Michal flung open the door. “Soon the rynskys will be gone. And there will be no one left to work the land.” He slammed the door behind him.
    The sound made her jump. Her heart thumped nervously. She pressed a hand to her chest.
    â€œHe is young and foolish,” Master Stryk said with an embarrassed smile. “He does not mean what he says.”
    The master was simply trying to make her feel better. Michal Stryk meant exactly what he said. Lesia had lived with cruelty and disdain from the aristocracy all her life. She had shivered through many cold nights and gone hungry for many winters because of it. Papa said it was all a political misunderstanding that would eventually straighten itself out. Ivan said they needed to fight for their rights. Suddenly, Lesia realized that Papa and Ivan were both wrong.
    The truth was simple but shattering. She was not valued as a human being. As a Ukrainian peasant, she was considered worthless, brainless, useless. Michal’s words scorched her soul. Praise to Godthat she was getting out while she could! And going to a place where she would be respected, where her skills as a steward of the land, a fledgling beekeeper, would be valued.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Master Stryk said softly.
    â€œYour son is wrong about one thing.” She was amazed that her voice was so
normal! “We
shall repay you. I give you my word of honour. We will send you money from Canada. A little each month, until our debt is cleared.”
    Master Stryk looked across the desk. Sadness, defeat and admiration flickered in his eyes. He smiled softly. “Go, quickly, child. Remember, you may always return. There will always be work for you in my house. God be with you.”
    Five weeks later, most of the village came to say goodbye. Warm bodies and laughing chatter filled the small cottage as Lesia slipped outside and hurried down the path to the horse and wagon.
    They were leaving for Hamburg in less than an hour, and she was terrified that they had forgotten something. She wanted to check the trunk one last time.
    The air was cool and her fingers stiff as she fumbledwith the large, round lock on the sturdy brown trunk Papa had built. It was impossible to believe that everything precious was inside! Her family’s entire life reduced to one brown box. Strange.
    On the bottom were winter clothes, bedsheets and two quilts. Next came an axe, a handsaw and a hammer for building, a spade, a sickle, a hoe and the leathers of a flail for working the land. Baba’s one and only kylym, her tapestry, was tucked firmly between pillows. And Mama and Baba had still found room to shp in their precious ikons: a picture of the Blessed Virgin, the cross painstakingly carved by Geedo